


Y Tu Millie Tambien

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-16
Updated: 2006-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: For my H/Hr shipmates, please don't be scared off by this. I'm still firmly ensconced on our ship. This story just depicts a possible youthful indiscretion.





	Y Tu Millie Tambien

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: And many thanks to **kaylarudbek** for the wicked plot bunny, my dear **abigail89** for the initial beta (when I first posted it last year) and **mollymoon** for some excellent concrit that I hope I've incorporated in this revised version. Approximately 3,700 words. The usual JKR disclaimers apply.  


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 **Y Tu Millie Tambien**

She used to be a lot taller.

Wait. That doesn’t sound right. I mean, she was always taller than the other girls (and most of the boys) in our year. And bigger too – at least until the end of fifth year. Then it seemed like, right when most of the blokes started to shoot up, she stopped growing and she slimmed down. A lot. In fact, now she’s not only not taller than I am, she’s also...pretty. Which is actually quite a shock. I mean, who would’ve thought that Millicent Bulstrode would turn out to be a looker?

Bloody hell.

So not only is Bulstrode really a girl, now she’s a pretty girl. Very pretty, actually. She’s tall and curvy and has black hair (hmmmm, like me) that kind of falls over one eye in a way that makes you want to go up to her and push it back behind her ear. And then maybe take her earlobe between your teeth and...Bloody hell. What am I thinking? This is Bulstrode we’re talking about. The same girl who wrestled Hermione during that dueling match Gilderoy Lockhart held during second year. She’s the reason Hermione turned into a cat when we took the Polyjuice Potion! Well, her cat was, anyway. Bloody bint should brush the cat hair off her robes.

Still, she’s a very good-looking bint.

Which brings me to my current problem. Millicent Bulstrode seems to be interested in me. Yes, that way. It’s certainly come as a complete shock to me. I mean, she’s a Slytherin, and for the past six years all I’ve ever heard from Slytherins is what a git I am. Not to mention that one of her best friends -- speaking of gits -- is Draco Malfoy, who’s been a thorn in my side since the day we all arrived here. Of course the other thing is that I don’t really know if I even like her, so I probably wouldn’t ask her out on a date to find out if she’s actually not a bint.

I guess Bulstrode is smarter than I thought, because she managed to get an Exceptional O.W.L. in Potions. This means she’s in N.E.W.T. Potions with me, Hermione, Malfoy and, amazing to say, Neville Longbottom as well as a few others from all four houses. Snape, being Snape, continues to harass me and the other Gryffindors in his N.E.W.T. class, especially Neville. Sometimes I think the O.W.L. examiners passed Neville just to piss Snape off, but other times Neville really does come up with a N.E.W.T-worthy potion, which pisses Snape off even more than Neville’s presence in the class.

Lately, this really odd thing has been happening in Potions. Whenever Snape assigns us a new potion to work on, Bulstrode always asks to work with me and Neville. I can just imagine what Hermione thinks about this. I really do have to imagine it, you see, because Hermione absolutely won’t talk to me about it. She and I have been partners in Potions all of this year (well, without Ron in the class, who else would I partner with?) and I could tell she was stunned the first time Millicent grabbed the sleeve of Neville’s robes, dragged him over to the table Hermione and I shared, then bumped Hermione out of the way without so much as a beg your pardon. There aren’t a lot of things that render Hermione speechless, but this was definitely one of them.

Anyway, Millicent (when did I start calling her that? I’ve always called her Bulstrode) has pushed Hermione aside during every Potions class this week. Between the scathing, disgusted looks I’m getting from Hermione and the...um, well...very sexy looks I’m getting from Millicent, I’m almost afraid to go down to the Potions dungeon anymore. But I continue going, otherwise I won’t have any chance of passing my Potions N.E.W.T. and getting into the Auror Academy (assuming, of course, a certain completely-evil-wizard-intent-on-world-d

omination doesn’t kill me first).   
  
I arrive at class early today and notice straightaway that Hermione isn’t there. I hope she’s not really ill. Maybe she’s having her “bitchy witchy week” (that’s what a lot of girls here call it). I miss her today. I’ve missed her for the three days since she last spoke to me. Every time I try to talk to her she hurries off with a future-Head Girl kind of excuse. When I do see her, she keeps her distance, but out the corner of my eye I can see her shooting daggers at me when she thinks I won’t notice. I think she’s being totally unfair. It’s not like I asked Millicent to start paying attention to me. You’d almost think Hermione was...jealous or something. I’m not sure why she’d be jealous, though. Despite the widespread but highly erroneous (I might add) idea that she and I are dating (honestly, just because we’ve been best friends for six years and spend most of our time together), we’re really just best friends. The very best of friends. That’s our relationship in a nutshell. Honestly. Don’t take my word for it; ask her. Really. Even though she's become quite pretty since fourth year and is always touching my arm or clinging to me in dangerous situations, our relationship has always been platonic. In the fullest sense of the word. Not to say that it couldn't change in the future…but I digress…  
  
So Hermione’s not here and I have no partner. It’s okay, though. I can do this by myself if I have to. Now I’m carefully measuring powdered bicorn horn and the contents of a flask of armadillo bile into my cauldron. Neville arrives, walks up to my table and nods. I nod back. He puts his Potions set-up on the table and starts measuring his supply of powdered bicorn horn onto his scales. Suddenly Millicent rushes in, looks around and flashes a coy smile at me.   
  
“Hi, Harry,” she says, sidling up to me as she adds her Potions set-up to my table, which is now getting a bit crowded. I glance across the room and see Malfoy snickering. Bugger him. He’s probably pissed off that a pretty Slytherin would actually talk to me. Stupid prat.  
  
“Umm, hi, Millicent.” Smooth, Potter, very smooth. She’s wearing some kind of perfume that’s very...intoxicating. My head starts to feel light, possibly because a lot of blood is going south.  
  
“Please, Harry, call me Millie. All my friends do.” She smiles sweetly at me and leans over the table to retrieve her pestle, which is rolling away from her mortar. Her robes are open and the top few buttons of her blouse are undone, revealing some very nice cleavage. The usually cool dungeon seems unusually warm.   
  
“You too, Neville,” she nods to him. Neville’s mouth falls open and he just barely manages not to knock over his flask of armadillo bile. His face is very pink. He’s probably even more embarrassed than I am; after all, neither of us is exactly used to positive attention from Slytherins, especially not one as pretty as Bulstrode – I mean, Millie. I sigh under my breath and poke at the contents of my cauldron. What in Merlin’s name is going on?   
  
Our Potions class goes by even more slowly than usual. For the first time I can remember Snape doesn’t come by and scold either Neville or me for no reason the way he usually does. Occasionally Millie bends over the table and flashes her cleavage at us. Suddenly she drops something on the floor, right next to my foot. Before I can do the gentlemanly thing and bend down to pick it up for her, I feel her fumbling around on the floor near my feet. I'm shocked when the hem of my trousers moves up, my sock moves down and something warm and wet trails across my ankle. I don’t look down, terrified it might actually be Millie’s tongue, which it probably is unless one of the salamanders in Snake’s potions pantry has been reanimated. She stays down there another minute and I try not to think what she might be doing; I’m just relieved she’s not doing it to me.  
  
Millie reappears, smiles at me again and licks her lips. Her eyes are smiling too, but not in an “oh, this class is so much fun” way, more like a “look in my eyes and guess what I want to do” way. I gulp. My face burns and I worry that I might sweat into my cauldron and ruin my potion. I steal a glance at Neville and notice he’s at least as rattled as I am. I wonder if she licked his ankle, too.  
  
Finally the bell rings and Snape releases us from class. I gather up my cauldron and supplies and put them back in my bag as Neville and Millie do the same. Neville starts to leave and I begin to follow him. Suddenly Millie grabs my sleeve.  
  
“Harry, Neville, do you have a few minutes before lunch?” She looks me square in the eye, her face a blank slate. Given the events of the previous two hours, I find this very unnerving.   
  
“Ummm...sure, Millie. What’s up?” I walk a few steps behind her as the three of us enter the corridor outside the Potions classroom. Neville is walking a few steps ahead of Millie, who smiles innocently at him but doesn’t answer me. Suddenly she spies a door, races over and opens it. Then she grabs Neville and me by our robes and shoves us past the opening. The door closes and the three of us are crammed inside a very small space. I feel a cold stone wall and a long wooden handle at my back and realize we’re probably in a broom closet.  
  
Two teenage boys and a very pretty teenage girl in a dark broom closet.   
  
Oh Merlin.   
  
I pull my wand out quickly and automatically say “Lumos!” Neville says it too, half a second after me. Our wands provide the only light in the small closet, which is full of the mops, pails and brooms that Filch and the house elves use to clean the Potions dungeon. The three of us are crowded together in the small space, and Millie is so close to me I can feel her breath on my cheek. Yes, it’s hot in here, and no, it’s not just me. I can feel Neville sweating next to me as Millie’s eyes move back and forth between us. She licks her lips like a lioness about to pounce...or maybe like a python about to strike.  
  
“Put your wands on that shelf,” she commands us. Like robots, Neville and I obey.   
  
Millie looks at Neville’s wand and mutters “Nox.” Now the room is very dim. The only light comes from my wand, which glints in Millie’s eyes -- though perhaps the glint in her eyes has nothing to do with the wandlight.   
  
Then Millie points her wand at the door and says, “Silencio!” The door wobbles and I realize I’m in way over my head here. My back is against the wall, my heart is about to beat out of my chest, but the blood that should be nurturing my brain and helping me figure a way out of this situation is nowhere near my head. I glance at Neville, whose mouth is flapping open like a fish out of water.   
  
“M-m-millie,” I stammer.  
  
“Yes, Harry?” she breathes, her lips just a few inches from mine.   
  
“Wh-why are we here? In a broom closet?” Neville gulps and nods as if to thank me for asking. “You’re not going to hex us, are you?”  
  
She laughs out loud then smiles broadly at both of us. “Hex you? No, no, no. You did say you had a few minutes before lunch…”  
  
“Yes?”   
  
“And you and Neville have been really nice to me in Potions lately.” Neville and I nod again. “So I just wanted to...thank you...for your help.”  
  
“Thank us?” Neville chokes out.   
  
“Yes, Neville, I want to thank you. I want to do something...special...for both of you.” She moves closer to Neville and a purring sound comes from her throat. Neville looks like he’s going to faint. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who feels that way.  
  
Without another word, Millie’s mouth is on Neville’s. She’s kissing him passionately and, after a second of hesitation, Neville responds and kisses her back just as hard. He tries to put his arm around her waist but she pushes it off.   
  
“No touching me,” she says with a wicked smile. “I can touch you but you can’t touch me. Only kissing.”  
  
“Okay,” Neville replies, apparently not wanting to argue with a pretty girl who wants to snog him senseless. I’m standing right next to them, watching them snog and feeling more than a bit left out, when suddenly Millie’s hand slides down the front of my trousers. Bloody hell, she’s feeling my bulge. I yelp, then moan. A second later I hear my zip moving and suddenly her hand is inside my trousers. Next thing I know, her fingers are inside my pants. She’s still snogging Neville but she’s got her hand in my pants, doing things I sure as hell never thought she’d be doing with me or any other Gryffindor. Things that I suspect Hermione wouldn't want to think of Millie doing to any Gryffindor...especially not me.  
  
Bloody, bloody hell.   
  
“M-millie!” I sputter, trying to grip the stone wall to keep from fainting from shock. “Wha—?”  
  
She rips her mouth from Neville’s and he moans. I finally see where her other hand is, and I’m not the least bit surprised.  
  
“Patience, Harry. I’ll get to you soon.” She licks Neville’s lips, then her own, then turns to me and shoves her tongue into my mouth. In my aroused state I’m not thinking very clearly -- snogging a Slytherin! – and I realize I’m thinking with my little head and not the big one, and most of me doesn't care (except for the part of my brain where Hermione's voice lives, the part that says _Reckless..._ ). Millie is pretty and sexy and her tongue is in my mouth and her hand is in my pants and bloody hell, I haven’t felt this good in months. The last time I did this with a girl was much too long ago, and I don’t care if Millie is a Slytherin, she’s making me feel really good. My tongue slides over hers, sucking it into my mouth. As I grind against her hand a deep chuckle rumbles from her throat.  
  
“Harry, Harry,” she laughs, taking her lips off mine for a moment. It’s a very throaty, sexy laugh and all my blood heads south again. From the corner of my eye I see Neville and recognize the look of ecstasy on his face. Millie’s right arm is moving frantically – I don’t dare look at her hand – and Neville is moaning and groaning louder than I’ve ever heard him in our dorm. The noise he’s making doesn’t bother me, though, because Millie’s left hand is moving just as fast and her tongue is back inside my mouth. Her robe is on the floor and I can feel a hard nipple poking through her thin cotton shirt. I move my hand up to her breast but she pulls it off.  
  
“Same for you as for Neville, Harry,” she pants into my mouth. “I can touch you but you can’t touch me. It’s this way or no way.”  
  
“Uhnhnh...okay,” I moan. Who am I to argue with a girl who can do two blokes at once?  
  
Neville’s making a lot of noise now, and I’m right behind him. It seems Millie is very talented with her right hand, perhaps a bit more than with her left, and suddenly Neville cries out and slumps against the wall, breathing heavily. Millie sucks her tongue out of my mouth and next thing I know, she’s on her knees and that tongue is doing things I didn’t know were possible. I lean back against the wall, breathing hard, and thread my fingers through her hair. Apparently this doesn’t violate her no-touching rule, because she doesn’t push my hands away; in fact, she starts to moan as they guide her head. I hear animal noises in the room and it takes me a few seconds to realize they’re coming from me. One of Millie’s hands is moving near her mouth; the other has slipped under her skirt, which is hiked way up her legs. Neville is crumpled in a heap, looking like he’s too happy to care that he’s not included now.  
  
“Millie,” I pant as her mouth moves faster up and down, “are you...sure I...can’t...touch you...anywhere? ...Please...” Her teeth scrape my skin harshly in response. I guess not. I don’t have time to feel bad about it, though, because suddenly the tension that’s been building inside me reaches a fever pitch and my whole body is thrumming wildly. My eyes roll back and a string of gibberish leaves my mouth. For a second I worry I might be speaking Parseltongue again, but I realize the sounds are just the guttural grunts and moans of a young man -- me -- who’s just been blown to within an inch of his life.   
  
_Oh God, what if Hermione finds out..._  
  
Millie removes her mouth and swallows hard. She looks up at me with an unmistakable look of triumph in her eyes, and my jaw drops in disbelief.  
  
“Zip your trousers up, Harry; we’re done now,” she instructs me blandly, as if she’d just given me a lesson on how to select and wear dress robes. “You too, Neville. Make sure you’re both presentable before I open the door.” She tugs her skirt down into a respectable position and pulls her robes back on.  
  
“Unhnhn, okay,” Neville replies. He’s never been a talkative type but it seems Millie’s performance has reduced him to one- and two-syllable words. I nod and put myself back together as best I can.  
  
Millie cracks the door open and peers out into the corridor, then closes the door. “Longbottom, you go out first,” she says. “Then Potter, you leave about a minute later. I’ll go out last. Can’t have us all leaving at the same time, if you know what I mean.” She winks conspiratorially at us.   
  
Neville smiles goofily at her while I try to pull a poker face and not look disbelieving. “Okay, Mil -- Bulstrode,” I grumble, straightening my tie. Suddenly I’m Potter again? Maybe this little interlude wasn’t what it seemed to be. Maybe she didn't really want Neville -- or me. I feel cheap and stupid, like I've been had. She cocks an eyebrow at me and one corner of her mouth curls up.  
  
“Okay, now!” she orders Neville, and he scoots out the broom closet, stumbling a few steps in the hallway before he saunters away. “Now you,” she barks at me, and I slide out the doorway and stroll down the hall about twenty paces behind Neville. About a minute later I look over my shoulder and see Bulstrode leaving the broom closet. She barely reaches the next doorway when an arm in a dark-green robe suddenly pulls her aside.  
  
“Pssst! Neville!” I hiss at him. “Stop! Come back! Something’s going on.” Neville turns and hustles back to the archway I’m hiding in.  
  
We can’t see exactly what’s going on but we can hear their voices. Bulstrode is talking to Malfoy. Bloody hell.  
  
“Yes, I did it. And someone owes me fifty Galleons,” she says smugly. “I believe that would be you.”  
  
Malfoy lets out a howl. “Fifty? You mean –“  
  
“Yes,” she chortles. “That’s twenty-five Galleons for doing both of them.”  
  
Neville’s jaw is open as wide as mine.   
  
“And another twenty-five because Potter lasted longer. Hell, he lasted longer than you ever do.”  
  
Malfoy snorts. Neville’s eyelids flutter. I think I’m going to be sick.  
  
^*^*^*^*^  
  
After what’s happened, and especially after what Bulstrode said to Malfoy, Neville and I can’t even look at each other, so we walk silently back to the Great Hall. My stomach is growling but my head is so messed up I don’t think I could keep anything down even if I did eat. I enter the Great Hall and sit at the near end of the Gryffindor table, just inside the hall. I cross my arms in front of me on the table and rest my head on them, hoping none of my friends notices me.   
  
Fat chance. Next thing I know, Ron is sitting on one side of me and Hermione on the other. Bloody hell. Hermione, barely half a meter from where...bloody, bloody hell...I can’t look at her. I can’t even look at Ron and he, being a bloke too, might understand how I feel. Well, maybe not the part about it being Bulstrode, with Neville there too. Bloody, bloody hell. I am too stupid to live.  
  
“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asks in a tentative tone. Her brown eyes are shining with worry. I feel totally unworthy of her concern.   
  
“I’m okay,” I lie. “Rough morning in Potions.” Well, after Potions, really. But there’s no way I can tell her that, especially not here. Ron says nothing but eyes me appraisingly. I realize my shirttails are sticking out much more than usual.  
  
“I’m sorry I’ve been...a bit out of sorts with you the past few days,” Hermione offers. “I’ve been feeling kind of...bitchy—" she looks away momentarily – “and I guess a little bit...jealous, too.”  
  
Jealous? “Of what?”  
  
She sighs. “Of Millicent Bulstrode.” I hope Hermione doesn’t notice me flinching. “I’m sure it sounds ridiculous and silly. It just seems like you’d rather have her for a Potions partner than me.”  
  
The events of half an hour ago race through my brain, and I realize that a few minutes at the mercy of Bulstrode’s tongue can’t begin to compare to even a minute of what I’ve shared with the smartest, bravest, most wonderful girl I’ve ever known.   
  
“Never,” I say with complete honesty, placing my hand over hers on the table. “There’s nothing Bulstrode could ever do or say that would make me want to partner with her.” Or come within ten meters of her ever again. Not even that. Especially not that. Ever again.  
  
Hermione looks up at me, her eyes shining with…I'm not sure what, but it makes me feel good. For the first time, I notice that her lips are especially full and lovely. It’s really a pity that we're just the very best of friends.   
  
THE END   
  
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